A little month! or ere thofe fhoes were old, With which the followed my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears---Why the, ev'n the,-- (O heav'n! a beaft, that wants discourse of reafon, Would have mourned longer---) married with mine uncle, My father's brother; but no more like my father, It is not, nor it cannot come to good. But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue. Enter HORATIO, BERNARDO, and MARCELLUS. Hor. Hail to your Lordship! Ham. I am glad to fee you well; Horatio,---or I do forget myfelf? Hor. The fame, my Lord, and your poor fer vant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you: And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus! Mar. My good Lord---- Ham. I am very glad to fee you; good even, Sir. But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord. Mr Dryden has remarked, that this is the fharpest satire in the feweft words, that ever was made on womankind; for both the adjectives are neuter, and animal must be underftood to make them grammar. 'Tis certain the defigned contempt is heightened by this change of the gender; but, I prefume, Mr Dryden had forgot this paffage of Shakespeare, when he declared on the fide of Virgil's hemiftich, as the fharpeft fatire he had met with. Ham. I would not hear your enemy say fo We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. Hor. Indeed, my Lord, it followed hard upon. meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. Hor. I faw him once, he was a goodly King. Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all, I fhall not look upon his like again. Hor. My Lord, I think I faw him yesternight. Ham. Saw! who?-----. Hor. My Lord, the King your father. Ham. The King my father! Hor. Seafon your admiration but a while, With an attentive ear; 'till I deliver Upon the witnefs of thefe gentlemen, This marvel to you. Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear. Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, your father, In the dead waste and middle of the night, Goes flow and ftately by them; thrice he walked, Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me And I with them the third night kept the watch; Where, as they had delivered both in time, Form of the thing, each word made true and good, The apparition comes. I knew your father: Thefe hands are not more like. Ham. But where was this? Mar. My Lord, upon the platform where we watch'd, Ham. Did you not speak to it? Hor. My Lord. I did; But answer made it none; yet once methought, It lifted up its head, and did addrefs Itself to motion, like as it would speak: But even then the morning cock crew loud; Ham. 'Tis very strange. Hor. As I do live, my honoured Lord, 'tis true; And we did think it writ down in our duty To let you know of it. Ham. Indeed, indeed, Sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night? Both. We do, my Lord. Ham. Armed, fay you? Both. Armed, my Lord. Ham. From top to toe? Both. My Lord, from head to foot. Ham. Then faw you not his face? Hor. Oh yes, my Lord, he wore his beaver up. Hor. A countenance more in forrow than in anger. Ham. Pale or red? Hor. Nay, very pale. Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you? Hor. Moft conftantly. Ham. I would I had been there! Hor. It would have much amazed you. Ham. Very like; staid it long? Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. Both. Longer, longer. Hor. Not when I faw't. Ham. His beard was grifly? Hor. It was, as I have feen it in his life, A fable filvered. Ham. I'll watch to-night; perchance 'twill walk again. Hor. I warrant you it will. Ham. If it affume my noble father's perfon, I'll speak to it, tho' hell itfeif fhould gape And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, All. Our duty to your honour. [Exeunt Ham Your loves, as mine to you: farewel. My father's fpirit in arms! all is not well: I doubt fome foul play; 'would the night were come! 'Till then fit ftill, my foul: foul deeds will rife (Tho' all the earth o'erwhelm them) to men's eyes. [Exit. SCENE changes to an Apartment in Polonius's Houfe. Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA. Laer. My neceffaries are embarked, farewel; And convoy is affiftant, do not fleep, Oph. Do you doubt that? Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood; A violet in the youth of prime nature, Forward, not permanent, though sweet, not lafting; The perfume and fuppliance of a minute: No more.---- Oph. No more but fo? Laer. Think it no more: For nature, crefcent, does not go alone Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now; (10) And now no foil, nor cautel.] Cautel from cautela, in its first derived fignification, means a prudent forcjight or caution; but when we naturalize a Latin word into our tongue, we do not think ourselves obliged to use it in its precife, native fignification. So here, traductively, 'tis employed to mean deceit, craft, infincerity And in thefe acceptations we find our Author using the adjective from it, in his fulius Cafar; Swear priefts, and cowards, and men cantelous. In the like manner the French ufe their cautelenx; by which they understand ruse, trompeur; and Minfhew has explained the word cautil thus, a crafty way to deceive. Mr Warburton. |